


No Turning Back

by aleksrothis



Series: The World Keeps Turning [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, First Time, Frottage, Gender Dysphoria, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Smut, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omitted scenes from Turning Points - a series of first times and private moments in Ben and Arnold's relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omitted scene from chapter 7 of Turning Points - Ben and Arnold take the next step in their relationship

It feels strange to undress in front of Arnold; even knowing he is familiar with the curves of his body by now, Ben still has to fight the urge to hide himself. He turns away to remove his bindings, unable to face the weight of Arnold’s gaze at this point.

When he turns back Arnold is seated on the edge of the bed stripped to just his drawers and the bandages on his injured leg and he is watching him. Ben almost wishes he was brave enough to bear himself entirely but for now he is grateful for the extra warmth his shirt provides.

“Benjamin…” Arnold reaches out a hand to him. Their eyes meet and Ben sees how his pupils are blown and is struck by the knowledge that Arnold sees something desirable about him. He pushes past the fear that Arnold sees him as less than a man, an equal, and takes the last couple of steps to bring himself to the bed and within Arnold’s reach.

As soon as he does he is pulled into an embrace, an arm around his waist. Like this he is the taller of them and when Arnold - no, he cannot think of him so distantly when they are so close - when Benedict looks up at him with such need in his eyes it feels only natural to lean down and met his lips.

They have kissed before but it hasn’t been like this. The kiss starts gentle but quickly deepens as Ben gains confidence, one hand on the back of Benedict’s neck, tangled in his hair, loosened from its queue, the other on his shoulder, feeling all the coiled strength of his arm and back.

Yet, when he feels the press of a tongue against his slightly open lips, he pulls away, uncertain. This is already progressing faster, further than they have gone before. Benedict frowns at him and Ben has to swallow a lump in his throat. His heart starts beating faster and he pulls his hands back but Benedict catches them. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Am I going too fast?” He sounds genuine, not impatient at what must seem like maidenly reluctance when they have already gone so far.

Ben forces a smile. He can see Benedict’s erection straining against the thin linen of his underwear and, if he’s honest with himself, his own body is responding to the intimacy. He doesn’t want to stop at this point, even if he isn’t sure how far he is prepared to go, so he balances his answer with a different concern. “A little,” he says, “but mostly it’s chilly in here and I think it would be warmer under the covers.”

Benedict’s arm tightens around his waist for a moment, pulling their bodies closer together. He is warm and briefly Ben thinks he will pull him down onto the bed like this but then he releases him.

“Are you sure about this?” Benedict asks. “I don’t want… I’m not going to be offended if you change your mind. We can just sleep.”

His gaze, when Ben meets it, is as intense as ever, but he can see no evidence of duplicity. He swallows, tempted to take the offered out and go for the known comfort, or even return to the safety of his own bed, but the thought of leaving this warm embrace is less than appealing. He shakes his head and Benedict smiles, one of his rare genuine ones going all the way to his eyes, and the lines which appear around them make him seem softer.

He allows Benedict to coax him until they are lying side by side, facing each other, as he pulls the blankets up over them. Ben is conscious of the tension between them, doesn’t know what to do with his hands. The bed isn’t quite wide enough to maintain any distance and even on their sides there is barely a couple of inches between them. Benedict shifts and, whether deliberately or not, there are now two points of contact, a hand on his forearm, knees touching. 

Ben isn’t sure what the protocol is here, his stomach twisting as he nervously reciprocates, shifting fractionally closer so Benedict knows he isn’t pushing him but still too afraid to make more of a move. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart beats faster. They have left a candle burning on the side and, when he dares look up, in its flickering light he can see the hungry look on Benedict’s face and maybe it should scare him but he has had enough of being afraid and instead something in him breaks and he pushes forward, one hand reaching up to Benedict’s cheek and the other clasps the arm already touching him.

Benedict responds with an eagerness which demonstrates how much he’d been holding back, pulls him closer with a hand on his hip, which then slides to the small of his back, his leg crossing over Ben’s and he can now feel Benedict’s cock pressing against his hip. Benedict is so warm and Ben would be content to just stay here like this but at the same time Benedict is kissing him again and, though his stubble is rough against Ben’s jaw, his throat, it feels good.

He should feel vulnerable but instead he feels safe. Benedict’s hands are on him but nowhere that makes him uncomfortable: the outside of his thighs, his sides, his back. Even those careful touches send pleasure coursing through him and he tries to return the favor but at that moment Benedict makes a noise which is clearly pain not pleasure and Ben freezes. What has he done wrong?

Benedict rolls onto his back, pulling Ben halfway over with him so he is almost straddling his good leg. “Are you sure you want a broken old warhorse like me?” he asks, and something in the depreciating tone tells Ben he isn’t quite joking.

He rests his hands on Benedict’s chest - despite the enforced rest and low rations the General is still in remarkably good shape - and says, though his heart races at his daring, “An old warhorse? I only see a stallion in his prime.”

Benedict’s fingers tighten on his hips and he huffs a laugh. “Flatterer.” Then he shifts his leg and a shudder goes through Ben as he realizes the possibilities of the position they are in. He runs his hands across Benedict’s broad chest, down to his muscled abdomen and back up to his shoulders. As he leans in to kiss him, he tentatively grinds his hips against Benedict’s thigh. It feels good, the heat and pressure better than the heel of his hand has ever been. Only the thin fabric of his nightshirt separates them and already it is becoming damp.

Benedict returns the kiss, his tongue again pressing at the seal of Ben’s lips but this time he opens to it, allowing him entry. He isn’t sure what to expect but Benedict doesn’t rush him, shows none of the impatience he is famed for and that Ben hadn’t even realized he feared. Instead he gently guides Ben to gradually deepen their kisses until he is breathless and shaking with desire not nerves.

He meets Benedict’s gaze again and what he sees there makes him brave. He has felt Benedict’s hardness against him and now he slides a hand down his chest to reach between them. Even through the fabric of his underclothes Ben can feel the heat of his body as he brushes fingertips against him. He looks to Benedict, biting his lip as he waits, he isn’t entirely sure if for his encouragement or approval.

Benedict nods and Ben presses his hand flat along the length. It is larger than he expected, but then he has only seen other men flaccid before, and his heart races. Still Benedict is obviously restraining himself and he wants to do more. Slowly he undoes the lacing, until he is touching bare flesh. Benedict gasps and Ben feels suddenly powerful for provoking this reaction. He wraps his fingers around the shaft, fascinated by the sensation of velvety soft skin over its hard core, the solid weight in his hand different to what he had imagined. 

Benedict pushes up into his touch, a moan of what is clearly pleasure escaping his lips. One of his hands dips to the hem of Ben’s nightshirt, brushes against the top of his thigh, and he shies away, the thought of being touched so intimately making him tense. Benedict looks confused so he forces himself to find the words to explain.

“I… This feels good but I can’t…” The words stick in this throat.

The hand moves away, back to his hip and he feels a wash of relief. “You know I never want to pressure you, Benjamin.”

He presses kisses to his collarbone in lieu of thanks and returns to his exploration, stroking the length of Benedict’s cock, running fingers up the thick vein on the underside, across the tip, where beads of fluid are collecting. Benedict brings a hand up to guide him, spreading the liquid across the head with his thumb then wrapping both their hands around the shaft and moving them up and down.

They get into a rhythm, hands moving together, while Ben rocks against his strong thigh. The pressure is thrilling, the feeling rising up through him unfamiliar, nothing like touching himself. He is shaking, biting his lip so he cannot cry out as it builds.

Benedict tips his head back, hips thrusting up into their joined hands, his face creased in what would almost look like pain if he wasn’t still stroking himself. It thrills Ben knowing he is giving him this pleasure. When Benedict spends, pulses of his seed over both their hands, his own belly, Ben assumes they are finished and stops his own movement, his breathing quick and shallow.

It takes a moment for Benedict to catch his breath, to open his eyes again and meet Ben’s gaze. His voice is husky as he says, “What about you?”

Ben frowns, tilts his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His hands settle on Ben’s hips, guiding him to resume his movement. “Won’t you let me bring you pleasure too, Benjamin?”

He holds Benedict’s gaze as he feels the incredible pressure start to mount again, his breathing speeds up as Benedict slides a hand carefully, slowly, across his thigh, giving him plenty of time to pull away. His hand is still above his nightshirt, rather than on bare flesh, so it doesn’t feel so daunting when it reaches the vee of his thighs.

“Benjamin,” he asks again. “Can I touch you?”

Ben nods, too overwhelmed to speak, then gasps as Benedict’s hand brushes against his groin. The sensation is almost indescribable as he circles his thumb around his most sensitive part, the pressure becoming a wave of heat which spreads throughout his body. It is nearly too much and he finds his hand going to cover Benedict’s, unsure if he can bear this pleasure.

“That’s it, Benjamin,” Benedict says. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

He had never imagined it would feel like this. He is shaking, his breathing erratic, every muscle is strung tight and then something snaps and it feels like falling.

When he comes back to the present, he is sprawled across Benedict’s chest, broad hands stroking his back and neck. Ben struggles to push himself up onto his elbows and look at Benedict, who is watching him through half-lidded eyes.

“How was that?” he asks, with a smile playing across his lips.

Oh Lord. He bites his lip, at a loss for words to describe the experience. “It was… thank you…”

Benedict shakes his head. “Ah, Benjamin, there’s no need for that.”

Ben takes a deep breath then leans in and presses his lips to Benedict’s. There isn’t anything else he can say and he doesn’t want to overthink this. They exchange leisurely kisses but sleep is calling and he is struggling to keep his eyes open.

He finds himself drifting off as Benedict cleans up and pulls on a nightshirt then reaches across to put out the candle and throws the hut into darkness. Ben lets himself be sleepily rolled over so his back is pressed to Benedict’s chest. They have slept like this many times but it feels different now. Some undefinable distance between them is gone and Ben’s last thought before sleep claims him is to wonder what he was so afraid of.


	2. A cold night in Valley Forge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also takes place during chapter 7 of Turning Points

The nights at Valley Forge are cold and they are both reluctant to sleep alone. It doesn’t take long from their first intimacy for Benedict to suggest other ways to share pleasure.

It is late, the sounds of the camp outside faded away to almost nothing, and the dark hut, lit only by flickering candlelight, feels like their own little world. They are pressed close together, body heat warming the space under the blankets as they move against each other.

They could spend the entire night lazily exchanging kisses, have done so before, but since their first time awakened a hunger in him, Ben wants to learn more ways to feel that wave of pleasure. Part of him regrets waiting so long, he could have avoided a lot of teasing from Caleb, but he is glad that Benedict was his first lover.

Ben starts to move his hand down between their bodies but Benedict catches his wrist. Ben looks at him quizzically as he pulls it up to his lips, kisses the back of his hand.

“You remember when we first spoke about this, you said what passed between us should be the same as between other men?” he says, voice low. The log walls may be more soundproof than canvas but it is impossible to tell who might be passing by.

“Ye-es.” Ben hasn’t thought about that conversation in a while. He had meant only to discount the idea of them lying together as a man would with a woman, but it seems Benedict has had other thoughts on the matter.

“Well, I was thinking about something you might like to try. Something which I believe would meet your requirements... ”

Ben shudders at the intensity in his expression, licks his suddenly dry lips. “Yes?” He doesn’t know what Benedict is referring to, though he isn’t entirely ignorant of such matters he doesn’t have Benedict’s experience, but already the anticipation brings a swell of arousal.

Benedict leans in even closer, mouth over Ben’s ear as he whispers, “Me pressed behind you, my cock sliding between your legs.” He runs a hand across Ben’s clothed backside until it rests at the crease of his thigh. “It wouldn’t be inside you, just rubbing against the inside of your thighs.”

Ben bites his lip to hold back a gasp. The thought of being so close to intercourse, without the penetration he fears, is intriguing and now he has the idea he wants to try it, to know how it feels. He wonders how Benedict had come to know about such an act, though he cannot deny the cold sting of jealousy coiling inside him, thinking of Benedict with someone else. He pushes it down, meeting his lips fiercely, wishing he could lay his claim.

He feels Benedict’s lips curve into a smile as he pulls back. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

Ben nods, rolls over, allowing Benedict to press up against him. It is still comforting to lie with his back to Benedict’s chest, feeling his arm wrap around him, pull him close. Indeed he has become so accustomed to his steady presence and the heat of his body that it is difficult to think of the time before they had this.

When Benedict strokes gently down his side, always so careful with him, he feels cherished, it warms him inside. His lover explores further, across his hip, then along the outside of his thigh. Ben squirms a little, deliberately pressing back against Benedict, making him huff against his neck.

“Ready for more, Benjamin?” His voice is pitched low but he is so close to Ben’s ear that he can feel his breath as he speaks.

Ben nods, voice catching in his throat as his pulse speeds up in anticipation. Still Benedict likes to hear him say it aloud. “Yes, please.” He rocks his hips again, feeling Benedict’s hardness against his backside.

Benedict slides Ben’s nightshirt up to the small of his back, baring his buttocks. His hands are warm against him as he rubs the palms across the exposed skin. “So beautiful,” he says and Ben feels his face heat at the idea that such an undignified part of him could be considered attractive. 

Even as he allows Benedict to press his cock against his bare flesh, he doesn’t feel any pressure, knows he could stop this at any point, but he is certain he wants more. Benedict adjusts his thighs, making a space for him to fit his cock between them, then spits into his hand to slick himself before pushing forwards.

Ben hadn’t been sure what to expect, it feels strange but good too, especially as Benedict begins to thrust slowly against him, his spit-slick cock so hot, the velvety skin so soft. He hadn’t expected his inner thighs to be so sensitive and, as the fat head presses against his outer folds, finds a sensitive spot with each pass, he gets wetter and the slide becomes smoother.

They find a rhythm, Ben pushes back as Benedict thrusts forward and he feels pleasure starting to curl inside his belly. Benedict mouths a litany of praises against his neck, as his hand grips Ben’s hip. “My Benjamin, so good, you feel so wet, make me so hard. Are you happy, want it to be good for you…”

He thrills at the possessiveness, tilts his head so Benedict can press kisses along his jaw. It is good for him but he slides his hand over his stomach to rub against the nub of flesh which brings him so much pleasure, less self-conscious about touching himself after Benedict’s encouragement. 

Benedict is heavy against his back, his weight pressing him down into the thin mattress. Ben rolls further over so he is almost on his front, rests his head in the crook of his lower arm, while the other he uses to touch himself. The sensation builds, between the friction from Benedict’s cock and his own ministrations, and he knows he is getting close.

He can see where the head of Benedict’s cock emerges with each thrust and daringly he reaches down between his thighs, brushing his finger against it the next time. Benedict moans practically in his ear. “Benjamin. Oh, yes. That’s incredible. Again?”

Ben cups his hand over his crotch and, with Benedict’s next thrust, the head meets the palm of his hand, leaving a patch of dampness, which he can’t be certain if it is his own slickness or Benedict’s seed. Almost unthinkingly he brings his hand up to his mouth, licks across his palm and a sharp taste explodes across his tongue. He had never wondered before what seed tasted like but now he all he can think of is finding out.

“Oh Benjamin.” Benedict sounds wrecked, a full body shudder wracking him and his thrusts come harder, faster. Ben licks across his fingers then presses them to the underside of Benedict’s cock, providing him friction on both sides.

It doesn’t take long after that for Benedict to be panting, wordless against him, a couple more thrusts again and then, “I’m going to…”. He pulls back, seed spilling mostly across the sheet between them but some of it spurting across his buttocks, feeling slightly cool against his hot skin.

Ben works his fingers against himself, already missing the feel of Benedict hard between his legs. He presses his thighs together, feeling the slight rawness and it is with the thought of carrying that sensation with him the next day that he tips over the edge.  
Benedict rests his head on Ben’s shoulder, still catching his breath. “So, you liked that?” He sounds pleased with himself, but Ben can’t fault him that as he feels the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling through him. 

He rolls over onto his back, wincing as he makes contact with the damp patch. Benedict leans over to kiss his lips and Ben is almost too tired to respond, lets his lips fall open so he can explore his mouth.

When Benedict pulls back, Ben looks up at him sleepily and smiles, “Yes. Thank you.”

Benedict shakes his head with a fond expression. “If anything I should be thanking you, Benjamin. You’re amazing, so responsive for me.”

He shudders, feeling his cheeks heat, and wishes he didn’t blush so easily at Benedict’s compliments but he knows the other man likes to see his reactions. It is easier to reach up and pull him back down into more kisses than to speak about it though and like that they settle for the night.


	3. Spring Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Chapter 8 of Turning Points, soon after Ben's return from Boston

When Benedict had first suggested this way of giving pleasure, Ben had been dubious. He has heard soldiers speak of receiving pleasure from a woman, has even considered what it would be like to take Benedict’s cock into his mouth, but had never realized the reverse was a possibility. 

His initial discomfort at the thought of being touched there has faded as Benedict reassures him that he doesn’t see him any differently, as he continues to treat him the same in public. Even once he had gotten past that, it had taken a while for Benedict to persuade him to allow him to demonstrate this particular act but the month's separation left him aching for any touch and now it is happening he is glad he agreed. In deference to Ben’s comfort levels he is still partially dressed but even through the now-soaked fabric of his nightshirt the feeling of Benedict’s mouth moving against him is incredible. 

His upper body is propped up on the pillows so Benedict still has enough space to stretch his leg out without being too far off the end of the bed. Lying on his side, Benedict had started with careful kisses over his belly and hips, working slowly down between Ben’s legs as he relaxed enough to let his thighs fall open.

Despite the build-up, the first press of lips against his centre had still sent a shock through him. He couldn’t have imagined how anything could be more pleasurable than the touches they have previously shared but this is somehow better.

Ben has to bite his lips to stop his cries escaping and his breathing becomes erratic as the kisses deepen until he feels Benedict’s tongue pressing against his core. His shirt swiftly becomes damp between Benedict’s attentions and his own arousal. He whimpers as he thinks about how he must taste to Benedict, the sharp tang so different to his seed, and feels his face heat.

Benedict’s hands are on his thighs, fingertips pressing into his buttocks as every pass of his tongue has Ben tilting his hips up into the relentless pressure and each time the tip swirls around his most sensitive flesh he feels his inner muscles clench and another pulse of wetness escape. Ben can even feel the slight rasp of the day’s worth of facial hair on Benedict’s jaw through the thin layer of material and it adds to the sensation.

Benedict pulls his head back and looks up at Ben; he doesn’t know how this is good for him but his expression says he is definitely enjoying it. He presses open-mouthed kisses to Ben’s centre and he can’t help gasping in pleasure as his fingers dig into the blanket.

He doesn’t even register Benedict’s hands moving away, sliding back up his thighs, pushing up his shirt until he is already peeling the fabric away from his groin. Ben tenses but Benedict kisses his bare thighs and he can’t help but shudder. It is almost too much and yet he can’t seem to find the words to stop him.

“Benjamin,” he says, spreading his hands wide across his pelvis. “Won’t you let me do this for you?”

His eyes are eager as he meets Ben’s gaze and Ben can feel his warm breath wash across his bare flesh with every word. He feels dizzy with desire and only barely suppresses a moan. “Please,” he says, not certain what he is agreeing to but sure he doesn’t want him to stop.

Benedict takes it as acceptance, pushing the shirt up further so the fabric bunches above his hips. Ben flushes as he is exposed fully for the first time but Benedict never suggests for a moment that he is disappointed with what he finds and returns to his previous endeavour. Only now his mouth is on bare flesh and it is so much better, even the scrape of stubble enhancing the feeling.

He bites his lip to keep from crying out and instinctively tries to pull his thighs together. Benedict’s hands press against the inside of his knees to hold them apart and Ben is shaking now with the rising wave of pleasure. His whole body feels warm, sweat prickling across him and yet Benedict’s mouth feels hotter still.

His tongue flickers between his folds, intimate in a way he could never have imagined and Ben is left gasping as the tip pushes inside him. It is too much and his hand is in Benedict’s hair, trying to push him away. Benedict draws back, instead closing his lips over his nub and as he sucks gently, the pleasure rushes through him and Ben is lost in it.

He doesn’t know if minutes pass or mere heartbeats as his pulse returns to normal and his awareness expands beyond his own body. Benedict pulls himself back up to lie level with him and he can feel his hardness pressing against the bare skin of his thigh.

It amazes him how Benedict could have enjoyed doing that. He turns his head to kiss him and his mouth is wet. Ben tastes what must be his own juices on Benedict’s tongue; it is different to the taste of his seed and again he wonders what it would be like to have his mouth on Benedict’s cock.

It is strangely appealing and he blushes at the thought of reciprocating, of learning all the places which will make Benedict squirm the way he did but is afraid of his own inexperience. Instead he reaches down, strokes his fingers across his length.

Benedict rolls his hips, pressing his erection into Ben’s hand. “Mmm, Benjamin. Yes, like that.” When he looks up, Benedict’s eyes are barely open as he rocks against him.

Ben doesn’t want to tease, wraps his hand around Benedict’s cock and gently strokes him. It is a little awkward so he spits into his hand to aid the friction and Benedict pushes back eagerly. He squeezes tighter, remembering how Benedict has shown him he likes it.

Benedict pulls him closer so they can continue to kiss, even as Ben works him towards his release. He lets Benedict manhandle him until his groin is tight against his hard thigh. The pressure makes him shudder but he has already reached his own peak, so why does he feel like he could come again so soon? Surely that’s not possible; he knows how long it takes Benedict to recover.

He shifts but the feeling doesn’t go away. Benedict encourages him to move against him as his hand continues its motion. Ben tries to focus on Benedict, his cock heavy in his hand, the feel of his demanding tongue in his mouth but the sensation is distracting and, when Benedict slides his own hand between their bodies it is not to join Ben’s on his cock but to stroke across his sensitive core. The rub of his rough fingers on bare skin is new but good, adding to the already overwhelming feeling of pleasure winding tight inside him. 

Even as Benedict spills across their bellies, he doesn’t stop and Ben clutches desperately at his shoulder as he is pushed to his climax for a second time. He doesn’t think he is capable of being coherent after that, leans back against the headboard trying to catch his breath. 

Benedict gives him a satisfied smile. “I can’t believe how good you are,” he says. “I could watch you like that all night, see how many times you can come for me.”

The words send shivers through him but Ben isn’t sure he could survive that. His heart feels like it is going to beat out of his chest, and yet at the same time his body clenches at the thought. He looks back at Benedict helplessly and his lover laughs softly. “Maybe not tonight then.”

Overcome with emotion, Ben bites back the words which want to pour out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to seem overly sentimental. Tired he curls into Benedict’s side as he runs his fingers through Ben’s hair. Maybe next time he will find the courage to tell him how he feels.


	4. Reciprocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during an unidentified point of Chapter 8 of Turning Points
> 
> Possible trigger warning for using gendered language to refer to a transman's genitalia

It is not always easy to find a private moment at the Myers house but Pol is right about their discretion. Not a word is ever said about where Ben spends his nights and there are no knowing looks or subtle hints dropped either.

Since his return from Boston, they have fallen into a routine and, although Ben is happy with their arrangement, he still wants to reciprocate what Benedict has done for him. He can’t help the way his face heats as he tells Benedict that he wants to try giving him pleasure, even more so when Benedict groans at the very idea, but the older man never makes him feel embarrassed of his inexperience.

Instead he strokes Ben’s cheek, promises to teach him how to please him. They reverse the position from before, with Benedict half sitting up and Ben on his side with his head over Benedict’s lap. He lets Benedict guide him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other holding his cock to Ben’s lips. 

Ben rests a hand on Benedict’s hip, licking his lips in anticipation. This close the size is quite daunting and the thought of taking it into his mouth seems like more than he can handle but Benedict encourages him. “Just use your tongue. Go on, lick it.”

He cautiously laps at the head, surprised at the spongy texture. The feeling under his tongue is not what he had expected, entirely different to touching with his fingers. Benedict prompts him to wraps his hand around the base, freeing his hand to go to Ben’s shoulder, and now there is only a couple of inches peeking out of his fist to worry about. 

He laves it, carefully working over the length, learning the difference in texture between the shaft and the head. He experiments, seeing how Benedict responds as he flickers his tongue across the ridge under the head, traces the thick vein on the underside. He learns where to focus to have Benedict breathing hard as he strokes the nape of his neck, telling him how good he is being.

He returns his attention to the head. It feels strange to do this, saliva pooling in his mouth and he has to keep stopping to swallow it back. Every time he passes his tongue over the slit there is a bead of bitter salt, but he can ignore the taste in the knowledge that he is clearly doing something right.

He knows how this is supposed to go and opens his lips, trying to work out how to go about the next step. Surely Benedict won’t want his teeth against such a sensitive part. He finds he can take in the very tip like this, but even that stretches his jaw a little.

He pulls away, takes a deep breath and tries to relax his jaw muscles before trying again, covering his teeth with his lips. Though it is awkward, this time he is able to get the whole head in. The musky scent is overwhelming and he struggles to breath. It doesn’t take long for his jaw to begin to ache and he pulls back again, wiping his mouth over where saliva has escaped, and returns to licking over him.

Benedict murmurs indistinct words of encouragement and when he tries again to manages to get down to where his hand wraps around the shaft and from there he is able to improvise something of a rhythm, which soon has Benedict eagerly pushing up into him. He works with it for a couple of thrusts until the head of his cock reaches the point at the back of his palate where it makes him want to cough, blinking back tears as he fights the reflex to gag. His fingers tighten on Benedict’s hip, trying to control the movement, or at least have some warning of it.

“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” Benedict says, as he skims fingertips across Ben’s cheek, wipes the tears away. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, it feels so good.”

Ben moans at the praise. It thrills him, makes him want to try harder and he pushes down further until he can feel hair against his nose and Benedict groans. As he becomes more confident, he moves his hand down from the base, cupping Benedict’s sac. He knows how sensitive this part of him is and gently strokes his fingertips across the soft skin. He can tell he must be close, the way it is pulled up tight to his body.

Benedict’s fingers catch in his hair, his hand obviously shaking. The sharp tug of it is uncomfortable but at the same time it feels good knowing he is affecting him so strongly.

“Benjamin, that’s it, I’m going to come,” he says, and his voice sounds wrecked with need.

Ben looks up through his lashes and Benedict’s eyes are closed. He isn’t sure what the right thing is to do here, uncertain if he is supposed to let him spill in his mouth and what he should do with it then? Or if it is acceptable to pull back now and let him finish across his own stomach.

He doesn’t get long enough to decide before Benedict is groaning, the first spurt landing across his mouth and chin even as he instinctively pulls away. He moves his hand to angle the rest away from him, stroking him through the end of his climax.

He goes to wipe his face clean but Benedict grabs his wrist, uses the hand on his neck to tip his head back. Ben shudders under the weight of his hungry gaze before he is pulled closer. “Come here.” He lets himself be drawn into an embrace, surprised that Benedict wants to kiss him like this. If tasting himself on Benedict’s lips had been shocking this is on another level.

He is almost embarrassed to realise how aroused he is, wonders if this is what Benedict feels when he does it for him. He lets his legs fall either side of Benedict’s thigh, moving tentatively against him. Benedict wraps an arm around his waist, encouraging him to seek his pleasure, and with his other hand traces a path down from Ben’s throat to his stomach. Ben arches into the touch, bites his lip to contain his sounds of pleasure. He is still able to taste Benedict’s seed and blushes at the thought of how debauched he must look like this.

When Benedict’s fingers reach his groin, he cannot help crying out. Benedict teases him, stroking his wet centre, rolling his aching bud between his fingers. “You love it when I play with your cock,” he says.

Ben keens as the words send a jolt through him. It is like the moment of being shot; the world stands still for a moment except, rather than pain flooding in after the shock, comes a sudden fierce joy. He has become so used to distancing himself from his body, thinking of it in euphemisms, knowing what it will never be. But now Benedict has given him this, made him look at himself in a new light and he doesn’t even seem aware of what he has said, still stroking him.

He has no words for what he is feeling right now, doesn’t think he could speak if he wanted to since he can hardly seem to catch his breath. Every sense is focused on the point where Benedict’s fingers are moving against him, circling his cock. The very thought makes him shudder. 

He leans over Benedict, meets his lips, trying to channel some of his gratitude into their kiss. His climax, when it comes, is harder than ever before and now, when he feels the gush of wetness between his legs, he isn’t ashamed. Benedict doesn’t stop touching him and Ben meets his gaze straight on as aftershocks continue to wrack him.

“So beautiful,” Benedict says and it is that which is finally too much for him.

Ben cries out, too overwhelmed to think about who might hear them and Benedict pulls his hand away, wrapping his arm around Ben's shoulders. He pulls him closer so there is no space between them as Ben gathers himself back together.


	5. An afternoon's plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Chapter 9 when they have the house to themselves for a couple of hours

It feels almost wrong to be doing this in daylight, or at least dangerous, but their hosts shouldn’t be returning until the evening. 

Ben hangs his waistcoat with his uniform jacket on the back of his desk chair and watches as Benedict removes his own jacket, waistcoat and sword belt. Ben meets his gaze as he unlaces his cravat and boldly continues to hold it as he untucks his shirt.

Benedict bites back a groan, his eyes growing dark. “Benjamin,” he says, closing the distance between them.

Ben turns his face away so Benedict’s lips meet his hairline and looks up at him through his lashes. He has had a while to think about how he wants this afternoon to go. “Why don’t you let me take control for a change?”

Benedict looks intrigued but immediately agrees. He brushes his knuckles across Ben’s cheek, turns his chin up to press a brief kiss to Ben’s lips then takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

Removing his boots is slightly awkward but Ben turns his back to Benedict as he does so, remembering how much he said he liked the view. He then continues the tease, sliding off his breeches and drawers. Clad in just his shirt he turns back to find Benedict pressing the palm of his hand against the outline of his cock through his breeches.

He bites his lip at the sight, still not accustomed to the way it makes him feel knowing how much Benedict desires him. He catches his eyes as he moves closer and Benedict pulls his hand away, resting it on the bed.

Ben holds the gaze as he drops to his knees before his general and watches him swallow hard, fingers clenching around fistfuls of blanket. He puts his hands on the foot of Benedict’s injured leg, running them slowly up from the heel to the boot top, then carefully pulls the boot off. Putting it to one side, he strokes gentle fingers across his stockinged foot, starting with his toes, caressing the sole, pausing to massage the stiffness out of his ankle, then works his way up his calf.

Benedict leans back with a sigh of relief; Ben knows how much his leg pains him constantly and is glad to do whatever he can to ease that. He unbuttons the lower fastening of his breeches, rolling down the stocking then leans forward to press a kiss to the bare skin now revealed, enjoying Benedict’s gasp of surprise.

He has seen the scar of the old wound from Quebec before, a puckered circle of flesh to mark the first time he’d nearly lost the leg, but now Ben brushes his lips over the reminder of how much Benedict has risked for their country.

Turning to the other leg, he repeats the process, though he maybe doesn’t spend so much time easing the tension out of its muscles. Benedict doesn’t complain, now lent entirely back, resting on his elbows. 

Ben sits up on his heels, laying his hands softly on Benedict’s thighs, mindful of his wound. He teases him for a moment, running his palms up the outside of his legs as he shifts closer, then skims his fingers over Benedict’s hips to the fly of his breeches, where his arousal is evident through the fabric.

Benedict is clearly resisting the urge to thrust up into the teasing touch so Ben doesn’t waste time before undoing the buttons of his fly, letting his fingers brush Benedict’s hardness with only the thin linen of his drawers between them. He guides Benedict to lift his weight up long enough for him to slide his breeches off and his drawers too, leaving only his shirt to cover his dignity.

He knows from the way the fabric is tented how eager Benedict is, but he is in no rush so he takes his time kissing the inside of his thighs, slowly working up from his knees towards his crotch. Benedict likes to talk, even normally when they have to be careful he whispers into Ben’s ear, but now he has the opportunity to speak up he takes it, a constant stream of praise and pleading emerging from his lips, telling Ben, “You’re so good to me, Benjamin, that feels good, don’t stop…” 

Ben feels powerful as he pushes up the shirt, revealing his cock, flushed dark with arousal, straining towards him. He bends down to lick across the head, the strong salty taste of his essence filling his mouth and his nose full of the rich musky scent.

One of Benedict’s hands comes to rest on his head, not pushing him but insistent nonetheless. He licks up the underside, following the thick vein then hollows his lips and takes the head into his mouth. Benedict’s hand tightens in his hair then relaxes again.

This angle is better than kneeling above Benedict on the bed and, although it doesn’t allow for his hands to reach more than Ben’s neck or shoulders, when he rubs his knuckles across Ben’s cheek he shudders. It helps that it is easier to breathe through his nose like this and that allows him to take Benedict’s cock deeper into his mouth without worrying, though Ben still keeps a hand on his hip so he doesn’t accidentally choke him.

He has learnt to enjoy the weight of it in his mouth, the way his lips are stretched around the shaft, but most of all he loves the way Benedict responds. As he gets into the rhythm of it, he alternates between running his tongue across the hot length and gentle suction, then when Benedict starts to lose control, he pauses with his cock as deep as he can take and looks up at him through his lashes.

Benedict doesn’t even seem to try to hold back the groan as his cock jerks in Ben’s mouth and he can taste the bitterness of his seed. “That’s it, Benjamin. Oh, yes…”

He pulls back; he could bring him to satisfaction with just his mouth like he has before, but he has something different in mind right now. Before he can overthink it, Ben pulls his shirt off and gets to his feet, standing before Benedict with only his bindings providing him any protection. Benedict’s gaze sweeps across him but doesn’t linger until he reaches his face.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks, trying for a teasing tone to cover his genuine insecurity but he doesn’t know how well he manages it.

“You’re perfect,” Benedict says, sounding entirely honest. Ben wishes he could believe him but he appreciates the sentiment anyway.

Instead of replying he gestures for Benedict to sit up enough to help him out of his own shirt and then they are both naked, or close enough. He pushes Benedict to lie back down and straddles him, letting his spit-slick erection slip between his thighs.

He lowers himself until they are almost chest to chest, his weight on his arms either side of Benedict’s head, laying gentle kisses across Benedict’s neck and shoulders as he guides him to thrust up against him. It is more awkward like this than when Benedict is pressed against him from behind, takes some adjustment to give them both the friction they need, but Ben enjoys the feeling of controlling the situation.

He rocks slightly, the sensation of Benedict’s cock pressed against him so good. He shifts so it rubs against his sensitive core, his own arousal steadily making the slide even easier. They move together but, even knowing they are alone in the house, the habit of secrecy is so great, Ben still bites his lip to keep himself from crying out. 

Benedict’s hands slid up his back until they reach the bindings. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without these restricting you?” he asks.

Ben shudders, the thought of being so completely bared unnerving, but the only thing he can read in Benedict’s eyes is concern. He closes his eyes and nods but that isn’t enough as Benedict hesitates.

“Benjamin, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I just want you to feel good.”

He swallows hard. Benedict is right but still he is afraid this will be the thing which changes his opinion of him. “Yes.” He allows Benedict to untie the bandages, to loosen the fabric but stops him before he can remove it entirely. Ben concentrates on breathing steadily as Benedict strokes up and down his back, then his sides, fingers wrapping around his rib cage. It is reassuring that he can still feel the evidence of Benedict’s arousal, no sign of any dissatisfaction in his eyes.

Slowly Ben resumes his previous movement, grinding down against Benedict who eagerly thrusts up to meet him. From this position he can clearly see the look of pleasure on Benedict’s face, watch how it changes as he alters the pace, the angle. He loves the way Benedict’s brow creases as he gets closer to release, the way his eyes slowly close then flutter open again as he tries to focus on Ben. It makes him feel powerful to know, even though his body is not the right shape he can still give Benedict this pleasure.

Knowing Benedict is close, Ben tilts his head up to meet his lips. It is sloppy and there is not a lot of finesse in it as Benedict thrusts his tongue into his mouth demandingly. One hand reaches up to tangle in Ben’s hair to hold his head still, whilst the other digs into his hip, keeping him steady. He moans into the kiss but all too soon Benedict breaks away, his breathing growing heavy.

As his thrusts become erratic, chasing release, the angle changes and the head of his cock rubs directly across Ben’s entrance. The rush of desire it sends through him is unexpected and he can’t stop the groan escaping his lips.

Benedict doesn’t seem to be conscious of what he is doing to him. His eyes are closed, hair stuck to his brow with sweat, and his grip has gone slack. Ben turns his head into Benedict’s neck, glad he isn’t looking to see how flushed he must be.

Each time his cock presses just there, Ben feels himself getting wetter. He is very conscious of how easy it would be to change the angle, allowing a different intimacy. For the first time the thought of being penetrated fills him with anticipation rather than fear. Perhaps he was too hasty when he said it would never happen but still, as much as the idea is starting to intrigue him, it will not be today.

His own climax is close too, that now familiar tightening inside him, a growing wave of pleasure. Benedict’s thumb rubbing against the sensitive skin of his hip, the other hand loose at the nape of his neck and he feels held safe between them. Even knowing they are completely alone, Ben finds himself trying to muffle his cries against Benedict’s shoulders, only allowing the smallest of sounds to escape.

Benedict’s grip tightens briefly as he tenses and spills, his hot seed spurting over Ben’s inner thighs, his buttocks. He is so close, tries to clench his thighs around Benedict’s softening cock but it is not enough. He makes a noise of frustration, even as Benedict rolls them onto their sides.

Ben frees his hand, intending to bring himself to his peak but Benedict is quicker, sliding his fingers between Ben’s thighs to rub against him. Ben rocks his hips forward impatiently, the wetness letting them slip further than intended back past his cock into his folds. The tip of one finger catches on his entrance and this time there is no denying the eager noise he makes.

Benedict pushes himself up onto his elbow and his legs tangle with Ben’s as he presses him down onto his back. He should feel vulnerable like this but instead he shudders with desire, legs spreading apart almost of their own accord. He meets Benedict’s eyes and the expression there makes his mouth go dry with his need.

“Benjamin,” Benedict says, sounding almost awed as he strokes him gently, fingers exploring where he has never allowed before. “Is this… I just want to make you feel good. Oh Benjamin, will you let me?”

He nods, not trusting his voice, but Benedict smiles down at him, knuckles pressing against his centre, this time deliberating parting his wet folds. It feels very different to any time he has touched himself, Benedict’s fingers thicker and differently calloused, and though the pressure of his impending climax has faded slightly, he is still so very sensitive.

The nudge of Benedict’s lips against his jaw distracts him from the novel sensation even as the tip of his finger pushes into him. Ben gasps, as he registers the feel of a broad digit within his passage. It isn’t entirely comfortable, the unfamiliar stretch of his inner muscles, but Benedict keeps kissing him whilst sliding just that single finger carefully in and out, getting deeper with each pass. 

By the time the first knuckle presses into him, Ben is shaking and, when Benedict curls the finger inside him, he cannot help but cry out, arches his back as it strokes something he had never imagined was inside him. Benedict is still leaning over him, continues to work his mouth across Ben’s throat and collar, teeth coming close to leaving a mark. Ben is so distracted he doesn’t even complain.

When Benedict lifts his lips back to Ben’s he returns his kisses fervently. He is shuddering, doesn’t want him to stop. The pressure builds inside him, different from before as Benedict adjusts his hand so he can use his thumb and forefinger against Ben’s cock.

The sensation rises through him like a wildfire, all conscious thought gone and his awareness narrows to just the two of them, the points of contact between them. He knows Benedict is speaking but cannot parse a word.

When Ben reaches his climax, he feels his inner muscles clench around Benedict’s finger, and it is so much. He could never have imagined it would feel good like this. The world comes back into focus as Benedict pulls his hand away and he blinks up at him.

Benedict meets his eyes and slowly, deliberately, brings his wet fingers to his mouth. Ben finds himself shuddering again at the intensity of his gaze, as he tries to bring his breathing back to a normal rate, his pulse still hammering in his throat.

Outside the dusk is drawing in so they know their time is running out but they have long enough to enjoy just lying there together for a while.

By the time they hear the Myers' return, Ben is recovered enough to redress decently and check on them.


	6. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their last night together before leaving Valley Forge

As the army prepares to leave Valley Forge, Ben and Arnold have to make their goodbyes. Their last night together is emotional and Ben finds himself overcome with the need to feel him close.

If this is to be their last night together, Ben wants it to be special. He has thought about taking Benedict's cock inside him for a couple of weeks now, since he had found out how good a finger had felt. Now his curiosity outweighs his fear, and if he doesn't do this now maybe he never will.

They are pressed close together, limbs entangled as they try to commit each other's body to memory. Ben pulls back from the kiss as Benedict's hand finds his crotch.

He places his hand over Benedict's, guiding him between his legs though he is shaking with nerves. He meets his eyes as Benedict hesitates, feeling something unwind within him at the consideration.

"Are you sure, Benjamin," he asks huskily, even as he traces his fingers over Ben's outer folds.

Ben shudders. "Yes, please," he pleads as the sensation increases when a finger presses deeper to stroke against his entrance. He rocks his hips impatiently when Benedict takes his time, caressing the sensitive edges, becoming slick with his own wetness.

"Please Benedict, I need more.". He aches with desire that leaves him feeling hollow.

Benedict uses his free hand to tangle in Ben's hair, tipping head back to expose his throat. He lowers his head to press kisses across Ben's neck, scrapes his teeth lightly against his collarbone as he slips a finger inside.

Ben moans, caught between the two sensations. He doesn't have a chance to doubt as Benedict pushes it in to the knuckle whilst his thumb circles Ben's cock.

"Is this what you wanted?" He murmurs, still mouthing along Ben's collarbone.

"Oh yes," he says, pushing up eagerly into the touch. Benedict is always so careful with him and he wants this. "More?"

He feels Benedict's lips curl against him and a second finger joins the first. As he becomes accustomed to the feeling, Benedict crooks then inside him, brushing against his sensitive inner walls.

Ben can't help clenching down on them even as he thinks about how much bigger Benedict's cock will feel. This is as far as they have gone before and he feels his cheeks heat at even the thought of asking for more but he is determined to see his plan through.

"Another," he forces out and when Benedict looks up at him, licking his lips, Ben is sure his whole face must be red.

"Benjamin?" He asks, even as he pulls his fingers out and then presses three fingertips against him.

Ben looks away. He cannot meet Benedict's eyes as he says, "I want... I want you inside me." It comes out as a whisper, as though saying it louder will be too much.

His heart is beating faster as he turns his gaze back to see Benedict's reaction. What if he doesn't want that? His fingers have stilled against him. What if the idea disgusts him?

But he needn't have worried. Benedict's expression is awestruck, his eyes filled with wonder. "Truly? Benjamin, you would allow me..."

He doesn't get the chance to reply before he is pulled into a demanding kiss. Benedict's hand is on his hip, sticky with what is aware must be his own juices, pulling him closer. There is no space between then, Benedict's cock pressing against his groin, the head a point of cool damp on his belly.

He returns the kiss, tongues meeting, pressing against each other. Ben grazes teeth over Benedict's bottom lip, takes advantage of his gasp to push his tongue into his mouth. Benedict responds by rolling them over, so Ben is on top, straddling his hips.

Benedict's cock is hot and thick between his thighs and he tightens his muscles to make him buck up against him. They break off the kiss to catch their breath and Ben rests his head on Benedict's shoulder, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

He pushes himself so he is sitting up leaning over Benedict and, as he feels Benedict's cock shift against him, a thrill runs through him as the thought of what they are about to do. He feels his flush extend down his chest, his whole body alive with the possibilities. He grinds his hips down just to hear Benedict groan, his hands squeezing Ben's sides.

"You're so amazing," Benedict says, looking at him almost reverently. "Love you like this."

Ben's heart seems to stop in his chest and he has to remind himself to keep breathing. They have never said... He had never thought... had always assumed love was something out of his reach.

He must have taken too long to respond, looked upset rather than simply stunned, as Benedict's face starts to fall and he opens his mouth to speak but Ben can't let him take it back. He quickly lifts a hand and puts shaky fingers over Benedict's lips.

Benedict raises an eyebrow and Ben find his voice. "I don't want to lose you," he says.

Benedict frowns but he looks less upset. "Why would you lose me?"

Ben can feel his breath on his fingers but doesn't pull them away from Benedict's face, strokes across his jaw as he bites his own lip. This isn't how he wanted their farewell to go. "I can't say it back," he says, frustrated that such simple words stick in his throat.

Benedict's expression eases. "Ah, Benjamin, do you think that matters when you're giving me something so precious."

A wave of heat rocks him, leaving him shuddering. This is really happening. Ben can hardly speak through the strength of his emotions. "Please, I need you," he says brokenly.

He can feel Benedict's hands are shaking he guides Ben to sit up on his knees so he can position himself at Ben's entrance. His cock slides against him as Ben presses down to meet Benedict halfway.

And then the head breeches him and he is overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness and yet desire for more, a sensation which is neither pain nor pleasure and yet both. He clutches desperately for Benedict - finds one of his hands and clings him like a lifeline.

His thighs are shaking as he holds himself up, half afraid to move. He realizes Benedict is speaking, in a soft tone as though calming a spooked horse. "That's it, Benjamin. Try to relax for me. You feel so good, you're doing so well."

The thumb of his free hand is running gentle circles over Ben's hip and the initial strangeness, the shock of the new sensation, is starting to fade.

The whole room feels warm and Ben takes deep breaths, feeling as though he is struggling to get enough air, like there isn't enough in the whole world.

His body clenches and relaxes and he feels Benedict slide in a little further. When his cock twitches inside him, it makes it more real, the realization that this is actually happening. He already feels so full and yet he knows there is more to come.

Benedict pulls their clasped hands to his lips, press soft kisses to his knuckles then down to his chest where Ben can feel his heart racing as fast as his own. It is comforting to know it isn't only him who is so affected by the experience, even though Benedict has certainly done this before.

He bites his lip, holding back the words which threaten to escape, begging for more. His lashes are wet as he blinks and he is aware of every point of contact between the two of them. His calves pressed to Benedict's thighs, the coarse hair on the chest under his fingers and the unyielding thickness of his cock, the relentless pressure inside him.

He forces himself to breathe, concentrating on taking in air rather than focusing the way he is stretched around that column of flesh, so different from the fingers before, even though it didn't seem that it could be so much thicker.

He meets Benedict's eyes and the awed expression on his face makes him shudder again, every hair standing on end. He lets his hand slip free, uses it to steady himself as Benedict reaches out to him, both hands now spanning his waist.

Ben takes a deep breath then pushes down, taking Benedict deeper into him until he feels wiry hair and the sharpness of hip bones against his inner thighs. It is nearly too much but even as his body spasms around Benedict's cock he can see his pleasure and it makes him now determined to see this through.

He grits his teeth and bears the discomfort for several long moments as his body adjusts. It is not painful exactly and he tells himself it will get easier, better. As the initial shock fades he is aware they are both sheathed in sweat. He feels like he could combust between the summer's warmth and the heat of Benedict's body against him, inside him. He is sure his entire body must be flushed.

Benedict is running his hands up and down his sides, from his ribs to the curve of his hip. He is holding still, though Ben can feel the tremors running through him, and the desperate look on his face says it is a struggle not to move. "Please Benjamin. You're so tight. Oh please, I need to move."

It takes him a couple of tries, lips moving with nothing coming out before he manages to whisper, "Yes, move," his mouth dry with the tension.

A flash of relief crosses Benedict's face and he rocks his hips experimentally. If taking him in has been a challenge then the feel of his cock moving inside him is an entirely different sort of strain which Ben doesn't think he will ever forget.

A high noise escapes his throat, entirely undignified, as he feels himself clench around the intrusion but this time there is some pleasure it and his arousal begins to return. Benedict had frozen at the sound but shifts again as Ben lifts himself up, against the protesting of his leg muscles, and then slides back down onto him.

The feeling is incredible, he feels like all the control is in his hands. He holds Benedict's gaze as he moves against him again and again, slowly and carefully at first but as the pleasure rises in him it becomes easier. He is so wet and the sound would probably embarrass him if he wasn’t so close.

As he moves faster he can see his pleasure echoed on Benedict’s face. It is intoxicating, leaving him almost breathless. Benedict reaches a hand up to cup Ben’s face. “Can I touch you? Please, Benjamin, can I touch your cock?” He sounds desperate, and his fingers tremble against Ben’s cheek.

Ben is already overwhelmed with sensation but somehow it isn’t quite enough, he needs more to reach that peak. He nods and Benedict doesn’t hesitate; he has barely begun to stroke him when Ben feels his climax beginning and the waves of pleasure that roll through him are only enhanced by the unrelenting pressure inside.

Benedict continues to thrust, even as he shakes through it, and his fingers are still on him, moving faster now and it pushes him over the edge again, leaving him almost dizzy. He is so caught up in the feeling, he only realizes Benedict has achieved his own release when he is suddenly empty and his seed spills hot across both of their bodies. 

Ben leans forward to kiss him, hungry for the press of his lips. Benedict pulls him down beside him, wraps his arms around him. As they lie together in the aftermath, Ben is struck by the realisation of what they have done. He presses into Benedict’s side - he had never imagined this was an act he would want and yet Benedict had ensured it felt good, no, beyond good. He almost wishes he hadn’t left it so long since they will be parted in the morning, who knows for how long, with only the memories of this pleasure.

They lie together afterwards talking softly, the morning will come soon enough and they are not ready to part. They do not know when, or even if they will see each other again.


End file.
